The Little Boy with Matchsticks
by Kari Twilight Mist
Summary: Shivering in the cold, Mello tries to sell some lighters. Unable to sell any, he goes into an alley and lights a few. In their flames he sees wonders. Death Note/The Little Match Girl crossover. Character death.


**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this chapter or story!**

**Anonymous reviews enabled!**

The Little Boy with Matchsticks

Threadbare jeans full of holes covered a pair of worn-out converse. The shoes were falling apart at the seams and had no socks protecting their wearer's feet. As snow fell a boy clutched at the center of the tattered black t-shirt he wore. As the boy puffed out his cheeks, a visible cloud of air stirred the blonde hair framing his cheeks. He reached into a bag he held and held up an unlit lighter. "Lighters only seventy five cents! Never been used lighters!" People around him on the crowded and dingy street paid him no heed. A few even bumped into him without even acknowledging his presence.

He bit his lip with worry. If he couldn't sell these lighters he wouldn't prove a good enough salesperson for the gang he was attempting to be in. "Lighters for only seventy-five cents! It's a huge bargain!" Nobody even looked like they had heard him.

Time passed and still nobody so much as looked at the orphaned boy and his wares. The boy stopped in front of a grocery store window. Sliced spiral hams were on display. His mouth watered and he turned away. The snow was beginning to obstruct his vision so he went into an alleyway and sat under the cover of an open dumpster lid.

Shivering he looked at his bag of lighters and bit his lip._ Maybe if I just light one, I can still sell it and just say it was a dud._ He reached into the bag and clicked the lighter. A beautiful tiny flame bloomed from the tip. His eyes widened as the flame grew around him. Suddenly he was in a familiar room lit by a giant fireplace. He stood and unsteadily walked to it. Just as he reached out his hands to warm them by the fire, the lighter died.

He bit his lip in thought. He had four lighters left. _Maybe one more wouldn't hurt._ He grabbed another and clicked it. Suddenly he was in another familiar room. In it was a table filled with delicious food. Gingerbread cakes, fish, _pogača,_ roast goose, decorated milk bread with eggs, a giant jug of warm cider and more. Licking his lips, he reached out to grab a bread roll. Suddenly he was back in the alley.

With a growl he flicked on a third lighter. Yet again he appeared in a familiar room. Only this time it was in a different place. No longer was he in his childhood home in Ljubljana. Instead he was on his warm bed in his room at Wammy's. There was a knock at the door so he got up and opened it. In front of him stood Matt holding a large wrapped present.

"Happy Christmas Mells!" he said with a smile as he held out the gift. The boy reached out to touch the present but instead touched cold air. A bit of snow dropped from the lid of the dumpster onto him. With a growl he flicked the last two lighters on at once.

Again Matt was before him. The boy carefully unwrapped the gift. "A new bible," the boy breathed as he ran his hand over the leather cover. He looked up to meet Matt's eyes. "Thanks, Matt. It's perfect." Matt held out his hand and the boy took it.

"Come on, dinner is waiting and they lit a fire in the common room," Matt said with a big grin. The boy eagerly followed him.

Later on a trash collector for the city found a blonde-haired boy dead in an alley. In each hand he held a dead lighter. "Poor thing froze," the man said with a frown. He called the police to let them handle the body. When the police came they shipped him to a morgue as a John Doe.

"Poor little thing tried to keep himself warm with a few lighters," an officer muttered to her partner as they left. "He must have been so scared. That's an awful way to die." Her partner nodded in agreement. Nobody would ever know of the wonders the boy saw before he died. Of how he no longer felt cold, or pain or hunger. How he finally felt at peace far after the lights in his hands dimmed.

**As depressing as it is, my all-time favorite Christmas story is **_**Den Lille Pige med Svovlstikkerne**_** meaning, **_**The Little Girl with the Matchsticks**_** or, as more commonly said in English,** _**The Little Match Girl**_** by Hans Christian Andersen. It's so sad yet beautiful. Anyway, I wanted to try and capture a bit of its magic in here as my holiday gift to you all. Happy holidays!**


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